"Dear child, I do not imagine; I know you look worn and ill. Why, Beulah, hold up your hand; there, see how transparent it is! Almost like wax! Something ails you, child; that I know well enough."
"No, I assure you, I am not ill. Sometimes, of late, I have been troubled with the old headaches you used to cure when I was a child; but, on the whole, I am well."
"Beulah, they tell me Eugene is married," said the kind-hearted woman, with another look at the quiet face beside her.
"Yes; he was married nearly five months ago." A tremor passed over her lips as she spoke.
"Did you see his wife?"
"Yes; she is a very pretty woman. I may say, a beautiful woman; but she does not suit him. At least, I am afraid she will not."
"Ah, I knew as much! I thought as much!" cried Mrs. Williams.
"Why?" asked Beulah wonderingly.
"Oh, money cloaks all faults, child. I knew he did not marry her for love!"
Beulah started a little, and said hastily: